The storm seems to be over:
Tender droplets of water,
Make their way down thy windowpane,
As soaked hills, swell in the distance.

The Green Mountains, bulging out of the earth.
I must be brave like the men of Dunkirk.

Do not be afraid of the animal spirit
It's hard enough looking in a mirror,
So let us make amends as we pray.
Gabriel, Your watch is over.

Storms might be over
But never done.
Do not be afraid.

Let them gaze at the withering surface
Let them be strong in the face of power
Let them be meek in the company of cowards
Let them be free.
Amen.

The sea in evening
Eyes, inhabiting coastal patterns
As gannets descend,
And rise again across the ancient skyline.

A stranger in some melancholy town,
Full of brooding faces,
And cobblestone streets.

We stood at the edge,
For hours as the western winds
Traveled toward our tawny figures.

Flesh, waning. Wishing it everlasting.

What lies over the bronze horizon,
What lies beneath oceanus?